


weather the storm

by 4wholecats



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [28]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Febuwhump 2021, Hypothermia, M/M, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4wholecats/pseuds/4wholecats
Summary: “I reckon I know more about survival in the wilderness than you do… I can manage for a night on my own. Nothin’ I haven’t done before…”“With those wounds…” Horace pauses to tug the other man towards a dark outcropping of rock casting shadows over the white-coated plains, “You’ll be dead in mere hours…”
Relationships: Horace/Ymir (Fire Emblem)
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114982
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	weather the storm

**Author's Note:**

> LAST PROMPT i cant believe i did the whole challenge... i cant wait for the next one hdjgfsjhdgfsd turns out i Love writing even on the days where its hard lol,, here's a longer one to celebrate!!
> 
> ALSO. TOPICAL. PLEASE consider assisting the folks in Texas who are still without power!! i was without power for a month during hurricane sandy so i know how hard it can be,,, there's a lot of links floating around twitter so i'd look there!
> 
> anyways enjoy! and thank you, especially to the people who have stuck with me for the whole challenge!! i appreciate and fawn over every single one of your comments :D!!

“You have to let me go-”

“I will do no such thing.”

Horace’s boot slips on a rock, unseen under the dense cover of snow. He grits his teeth before easing off of his pained leg with a hiss. Weather like this makes his old injuries come back to haunt him, and Ymir’s tremendous weight across his shoulders isn’t helping. The other man shuffles through the snow with shaking legs, his cloth and fur armor flecked with flakes too cold to melt. The arrows sticking from his chest like toothpicks clack together lightly as he takes deep, shuddering breaths.

It’s a long way back to camp. They’ll never make it.

Ymir reads Horace’s mind with a wheeze. “You can get back to camp yourself if you start now… Send someone back for me in the morning.”

“No.”

“I reckon I know more about survival in the wilderness than you do… I can manage for a night on my own. Nothin’ I haven’t done before…”

“With those wounds…” Horace pauses to tug the other man towards a dark outcropping of rock casting shadows over the white-coated plains, “You’ll be dead in mere hours…”

It’s not quite a cave, but it’s cover from the snow, so Horace stumbles towards it, dragging his reluctant partner along with him. The sky is already staining pink- the sun beginning to set. They need to build a fire… or they would freeze in their sleep…

He reaches the wall of the outcropping unsteadily, kicking snow into the small sanctum as his heavy boots drag through the dirt covering the chilled earth. He lets go of Ymir carefully, watching as the other man slides to the ground, brow wrinkled in pain.

“I… I’ll go find some firewood- I’ll be back. Don’t move,” Horace orders. It’s hard to sound authoritative while shivering this much. Ymir snorts out a breath in response. Kicking around in the snow near the spindly bodies of a few bare trees yields a few branches thick enough to be burned, though whether they would be enough for the whole night…

“Ymir?”

The axeman cracks open an eye. He’s made no attempt to remove the arrows yet. His shirt is soaked through with blood. 

“Your knife-”

“Take it.”

Horace grabs the weapon from the other man’s belt with a tired nod. Those arrows needed to be removed soon, otherwise-

The branches are cut and stripped sloppily, but Horace has already moved onto the next task. Neatness isn’t a luxury they have right now, not when the rapidly suffocating cold is creeping in. Ymir is still bleeding- at least, he appears to be. Perhaps the wounds have frozen closed by now... 

The fire is weak. The damp kindling argues with the meager flame Horace manages to strike up. He needs something dry to burn-

He reaches for the straps of his pauldrons.

“No… you’ll freeze if you do that…” Ymir mumbles, watching as Horace tosses aside his armor and gambeson. 

“It won’t light… I need something dry…” Horace says, struggling out of his chainmail with shaking hands. The metal is cold enough to burn, even through his gloves. Thankfully, his shirt is dry- dry enough to get a fire started, he hopes. 

The cold hits his skin like a stinging whip, the shock of it enough to halt the breaths struggling to leave his lungs. He coughs in shock and pain as snowflakes attach themselves to his exposed skin, digging in like tiny needles. 

“Horace..!”

Ymir shifts behind him; his body dragging against the earth as he heaves himself upright. Horace throws the shirt onto the ground, reaching desperately for his gambeson-

The padded arming doublet is thick and well layered; warm enough to serve as a proper coat in conditions like this. He exhales loudly as he refastens the garment with shaking hands, feeling dizzy. No time to waste now… he could focus on his own warmth later…

“The arrows,” he starts, turning towards his companion as the sleeve of the abandoned shirt begins to take to the flame. It’s a thick piece of fabric; hopefully it will burn for at least a few hours... “Let me look at the arrows.”

Ymir doesn’t have a lot of room to argue. He remains seated as Horace crouches down next to him, peeling back the layers of leather and fur that serve as the other man’s armor. The thick hides had blocked the attacks well, but even without the worry of organ damage, blood loss was still a looming threat. 

“I… I don’t know how to remove... these,” Horace starts, tongue heavy in his mouth. “The arrowheads should be… seen to by a healer. But I can take care of the rest.” He snaps the shaft of each arrow over the blade of the knife, tossing the splintered sticks into the steadily growing fire as he goes. They catch quickly, throwing up sparks. 

“Bandages… I have bandages on my belt-” Ymir grunts, one hand pressed to the deepest wound in the center of his chest. Horace nearly drops the gauze as his fingers continue to shake, catching it again just before it becomes dirtied by soil and snow.

Ymir gasps as Horace hikes up the hem of his shirt, the cold battering against his exposed wounds. They have begun to freeze over, Horace observes, but the fire should help with that… 

The bandages hold fast, thankfully, and Ymir is quick to rewrap himself in his coat as soon as Horace’s hands lift away. The ice that clings to the axeman’s hair has melted now, or perhaps that’s sweat dripping from his brow…

“Thanks, Horace. I… don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says, drawing his fur collar up to cover his neck. “The fire feels good… you’ve learned well…”

“Does it..?” He’d forgotten about the fire. He can’t feel it’s effect yet; his skin still prickles with the numbness and pain he attributes to the terrible weather. His fingers hurt as he feeds more of the shirt into the flames. 

“You’re still shivering…” Ymir sighs, stretching out a weak arm. “Come here… I’ll keep us both warm.” The weight of the other man’s arm is comforting, but Horace’s skin stings at the contact. “Tomorrow… first thing in the morning… we’ll make our way back to camp… get warmed up proper.”

“If they don’t... send someone out to find us first...” The words lodge themselves in the knight’s mouth like rocks. Frost eats at his brain, making it hard to think.

“In this weather? That’s a death sentence. No… they’ll wait until it stops snowing… But we’ll be fine as long as we keep out of the worst of it.”

“The… worst of… it…”

“And the fire-” Ymir pauses to take a deep breath, hand returning to his side where one of the arrowheads remains buried, “-the fire helps too. We’ll be alright.”

“Of… course…”

Something furry slides along the back of his neck. Ymir’s other arm, hand still slick with blood, reaches around to grab at the other end of his cloak, wrapping it tightly around them both. The warmth from it doesn’t feel any different from the sting of the outside air…

“Horace?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re shaking a lot.”

“I’m… cold…” Breathing hurts. He tries to do it as infrequently as possible. His head spins, whether from the lack of oxygen or from the cold, he isn’t sure.

Ymir presses the other man closer into his side. “You’re gonna freeze without your shirt…”

“I have my…” Horace tugs on one of the fasteners on his gambeson with his hand. His skin creaks inside of the glove- “My… this.”

“Your ‘ _ this _ ’ isn’t enough… here…”

Ymir’s arm curls around Horace’s shoulder, drawing him in closer. The knight rests his forehead in the crook of the other man’s neck, breathing in the smell of blood and smoke. 

“There… now we will keep each other warm. You make for a decent blanket.”

“Hm… you as well.” Some of the feeling returns to his fingertips. He digs his hands further into the fur lining of Ymir’s coat.

Yes… as long as they looked out for each other… and kept the fire going… they would be fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> THATS ALL FOLKS
> 
> please comment and check out the rest of the collection if you like!! catch y'all next time!!


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